


Denial

by Glinda



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-13
Updated: 2005-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/pseuds/Glinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's denial and then there's this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

It's possibly quite sick, she thinks. It's definitely twisted. She knows that the other members of the Order think it's strange. Those that know that is. Which is Moody, and Kingsley and probably Arthur knows too. Bill thinks he does. Dumbledore definitely does, though he never says anything, but then Dumbledore knows everything. Surprisingly, although old Mad-Eye was her teacher through her Auror training (his last class before he retired) he is the easiest to deal with. The least embarrassing, possibly she thinks, because he understands to a certain extent what she's doing. He's lived through the first war, he understands the intense relationships you form in these circumstances. Most of the original Order have the attitude of 'don't ask, don't tell' turn a blind eye. The worst was when Kingsley stopped her in the corridor before she entered the kitchen and softly pointed out that she'd "Missed a bit", healed the angry-looking bite-mark she thought she'd hidden with her blouse. He nods satisfiedly, squeezes her hand briefly and murmurs, "best that Molly doesn't see…she…wouldn't understand, you know."  
Oh she knows. She knows that Molly wouldn't even begin to understand.

Bill calls it 'Emergency Sex', he had it a few times out in Egypt in his curse-breaker days. Banking in the wizarding world can be a dangerous profession. She remembers, though she's careful not to use that particular face when he's around, he was good – but he has Fleur now. He's not really the type for that. Survival sex was one thing but he needs someone to love. So does she really. But she never loved him. He was just a handsome young man to loose herself in. She's only ever really loved two men. They're not really there anymore, either of them. Mere shadows of the passionate young men she fell in love with so long ago. But she loves them still. Loves them both to ridiculous extremes.

Shame that at the heart of the matter: they've only ever really loved each other.

Denial is a terrible thing. She knows that better than anyone. Sometimes she wants to scream at them both. Make them see the truth. But in a tiny part of her soul, that she despises, she knows she never will. Because if they accept the truth she'll be excluded. On her own again. She's far too selfish to give up the little bit of each of them both that she has. After all just because she loves them both, doesn't mean she's willing to share.

It had started as an almost joke. There'd only been a few of them in the House. Before the Weasley's had taken up residence. Kingsley had walked in on Sirius masturbating in the loo. Mid half-embarrassed re-telling to Remus, she'd walked in on the three of them. She'd been absurdly pleased when they'd kept talking, clearly she'd established herself fully as 'one of the boys', not easy when two of 'the boys' in question used to baby-sit you. They'd joked about Sirius' lack of sex life. She'd cracked some joke about 'keeping it in the family', there'd been laughter. A bizarre conversation had started regarding whether she'd ever 'been someone else' for anyone. She'd turned into various different Muggle models at will for their amusement – both male and female. Someone, she suspected it had been Remus had raised the question of 'did she not feel used, being someone else for sex'. She'd shrugged and answered truthfully that she felt it was a hell of a lot more honest than the alternative, many people went through everyday: closing their eyes and imagining someone else. What she didn't add was that that was what she always did.

For as long as she could remember every last one of her fantasies had revolved around the pair of them. She had literally never wanted anyone but them. But to be fair in her fantasies it was always all three of them. These days she wondered whether Hermione had those sort of dreams about Ron and Harry. She doubted it. If she did she was never asking. She had them now. Comfort in times of need. It wasn't perfect but it was enough for her. She loved them enough to give them what the wanted. At least until they realised what they really needed. Much as Kingsley and Moody might think they knew what was going on, she doubted they realised the extent of that pair's denial. The others probably imagined she became their favourite model or long lost Hogwarts sweetheart. No, she was something far simpler and at the same time far more twisted for them. It had started with little things in reply to her 'whoever you want' comment. Sirius wanted dirty blonde hair and amber eyes. Remus wanted long curly black hair and grey blue eyes. Later Sirius would ask for scars, Remus for tattoos. Didn't matter where they were just that they were there. As time went on she started to position them to match those of the person they couldn't admit they truly wanted. Remus' desires were easiest to match, biological imperative bore out allowing her to transform into a female version of Sirius with relative ease. Turning herself into a girl-Remus took a bit longer but she'd studied him for so long that it was soon accomplished. Neither of them acknowledged it. But she knew she'd succeeded: those choked off cries of each other's names assured her of that.

It's a twisted little routine they've got but they keep going because it's all they've got even if they want more. Even when she knows that if the two of them would just acknowledge it all three of them could get what they wanted.

Time passes and Christmas comes. It's crowded and chaotic and there's worry for Arthur and Weasley's everywhere you turn around. Harry's there and both of them light up in a way they don't for anyone else. Like divorcees playing happy families for their visiting surrogate child. She's been so busy. Auror work is tiring, exhausting when combined with the overload of Order work she's found herself left with lately. She's just too tired. The kids have all gone to bed, full of food and excitement. Arthur will be okay and Christmas is tomorrow. She's collapsed on her bed when they find her. She opens her mouth to protest her tiredness when they flop down on either side of her. Gently teasing her. Suddenly it's as though 15 years have rolled back. Hands tenderly stroke her hair, massage the tension headache from her temples. Her boys are back for a moment, she feels cherished, special, loved for the first time in what seems like forever. She is their little Princess again and she remembers why she fell in love with them in the first place.

After that night things seem different between the three of them. Like they have some private special secret…which, they do, she supposes. Now the 'comfort' sessions are rarer, but when they do occur they are indescribably better. It seems wrong when it's just her and one of them now, so those have all but stopped. Now that her boys have realised what they were missing, they always want to share her. And how they share her. She's had her share of lovers but none like the pair of them. Like her fantasies made flesh, yet infinitely better. Pleasure and passion unlike anything she's ever known before or, she fears, will ever know again. They call her Princess and worship her like the shape-shifting goddess they tell her she is. In the privacy of her own mind she acknowledges that denial can be a wonderful thing.

Cliché as the phrase is, all three of them have had lives that proved that: "all good things must come to an end." And they do. Six months are all she gets. Six wonderful, terrifying, brutal and magical (in more ways than one) months. Till one night in June, in the Ministry when all three of them nearly die, yet as they fight alongside one another against the Death-eaters they are more alive then they've been since before Hallowe'en 1981. She wakes in St. Mungo's two days later, to find out from a still shell-shocked Remus that Sirius had taken over her duel with Bellatrix…and lost. He has passed beyond the veil and is lost to them both until the end of their days.

She's grieves Sirius on many levels, though she is aware that while he may be doing a better job of hiding it then she is, not as much as Remus does. The worst of it is that she's lost Remus too. In the aftermath of Sirius's death Remus seems to have come to the terrible realisation of just who he has really always wanted, needed, loved. He is distant and will not allow her even a hug to comfort her. He seems fearful of his intentions and actions. He claims that he has hurt her enough. They argue fiercely and she revels in it, as anger drives the deadness from his eyes. It takes two she argues, well in this case it took three but still, the principle holds true. Guilt racks them both, and the space where Sirius should still be stands cold, solid and unyielding between them.

Watching Bill and Fleur courting has gone from being amusing and slightly cringe-worthy to being heart-breaking. She knows that half the order (and most of the Weasley children) think she's in love with Bill. She doesn't dis-abuse them of this notion, it obscures the truth. Harry's suspicions that she was in love with Sirius are closer to the mark than he knows. Molly and Arthur see the simple truth. Two broken hearts, a common grief, and guilt by the bucket-load. They do their best to bring them back together, though neither really hold enough influence over Remus. In all honesty she really needs help from the k ids but they have enough burdens without worrying about her. Hermione and Ginny tag-teaming her about the meta-morphosing was disconcerting and had Fleur not walked in at the right moment they might have actually got to the truth. She doesn't know whether she wants to hit or hug the French girl. She is sure, however, that Auror though she may be, she is perilously close to breaking. What scares her most is the uncertainty of whether there will be anyone to put her back together when it happens.

There are several occasions when she almost breaks but she somehow keeps it together for the most part. A few crying fits that she passes off as grief over Sirius's death, which is, in all fairness, part of it. She'd certainly not be feeling like this if he hadn't died.

She does break eventually. The hospital wing, in front of the kids (who in all fairness are hardly kids anymore) wasn't perhaps the best of places, but her outburst about him and Bill and lycanthropy nicely knocks all his carefully constructed arguments on their head. Unable to mention things that neither of them want revealed to the onlookers, a strange truth comes to light. It's not that he doesn't love her, he just thinks she deserves better.

So when he stands next to her at Dumbledore's funeral, its such a little thing for him to reach out and take her hand. But it's a step in the right direction. It's a long road they've got to travel, but they don't have to walk it alone anymore. There's a war to be won, and somewhere along the line they will find a way to let Sirius go. At least until they too pass beyond the veil and the three of them are together once more.


End file.
